Troublesome Transfers
September 8, 2011
The athletic eligibility transfer regulation adopted by MHSAA member schools, which states that all transfer students are ineligible for approximately one semester unless the student’s situation meets one of 15 stated exceptions, is an imperfect tool. It’s a wide and generally effective net that nevertheless catches some student transfers it should not and misses some transfers it should catch.
To release those students who should not have been snared there is a procedure by which schools may request a waiver from the MHSAA Executive Committee. During the 2010-11 school year, 320 requests to waive the transfer regulation were made by schools, and 219 waivers were approved by the Executive Committee.
The most troublesome aspect of the transfer regulation is that it does not stop or penalize all transfers that are primarily for athletic reasons. If a student is eligible under one of the stated exceptions, that student is immediately eligible regardless of the motivation behind the change of schools.
If, however, a student changes schools and that student’s circumstances do not meet one of the 15 stated exceptions that would provide immediate eligibility, there is a provision by which the school which lost the student may challenge that the change was primarily for athletic reasons. If that school alleges that this was an athletic-motivated transfer and documents its allegations on a timely basis, the MHSAA is authorized to investigate. If the MHSAA agrees, the student is ineligible for an additional semester.
The school which lost the student has the keys in its pocket. By rule, only that school can start the process.
The mere presence of this provision has discouraged many athletic-motivated transfers; and the more it is utilized, the more it will discourage these most troublesome transfers.
Tools of Thought
July 13, 2018
(This blog first appeared on MHSAA.com on May 11, 2012.)
I am famous at home and office for my lack of keyboarding skills. The only “C” grade I received in high school was a summer school course in what was then called “typing.” At Dartmouth I paid a woman who worked at the dining hall to type my college papers. In an early job at the University of Wisconsin I typed the play-by-play of Badger football and basketball games with a clumsy “hunt-and-peck” approach.
Today, with the same lack of style, I pound out dozens of emails daily, hammering the keys like my first manual typewriter required four decades ago.
But for any document of great length or importance, I do as I’ve always done: take up pencil (my software) and legal pad (my hardware). There is no question that, for me, the nature of the equipment I’m using for writing affects the nature of the thinking.
With his eyesight failing late in his life, Freidrich Nietzsche bought his first typewriter, changing from pen and paper to the new technology of the 1800s. According to a 2008 article in Atlantic Monthly by Nichols Carr, a friend wrote to Nietzsche in a letter that, since adapting to the telegraphic style, Nietzsche’s terse prose had become even tighter. To which Nietzsche replied: “You are right, our writing equipment takes part in the forming of our thoughts.”
Which makes one wonder where all today’s tweeting and texting may take us.